


none of my business

by youcouldmakealife



Series: between the teeth [43]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 02:38:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7149314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey, thanks Chaps,” Dineen says. “Okay if I call you Chaps? I know I’m new.”</p>
<p>“I’m kind of new too, so,” David says. “That’s fine.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Dineen says, then smiles at David, lopsided. “Thanks, Chaps.”</p>
<p>“You’re welcome, Dineen,” David says, and is horrified to realise he’s gone red.</p>
            </blockquote>





	none of my business

Early in December they get a player from the Barons, someone Robbie had played college hockey with, and Robbie starts acting weird. David doesn’t like to assume things, but he’s fairly certain they’re connected, because Robbie’s been kind of weird in general — grumpy and snappish in a way David’s never seen him — but he’s by far the worst around Dineen. It’s strange, because they’re playing together — playing really well together, actually, better than Robbie had with Whelan, who’s been rightfully pushed down to third pairing — but the second they’re off the ice Robbie’s, well. Icing him out.

Even on the ice, tonight, because Dineen gets his first goal as a Capital, a bullet from the point, and even though Robbie’s the closest to him, was the primary assist on the goal, he hangs back until everyone on the Quincy line swarms Dineen before he joins the celebration. Considering last game Robbie was leaping on David about a second after his overtime winner, before David could even brace himself, that seems really odd, especially because Dineen’s — well. Dineen seems nice.

Dineen seems nice, though David thought Benson was okay when he started playing with him, so maybe he’s missing something. Robbie obviously knows Dineen better than David does, considering they played together for years, and Robbie’s pretty friendly with everyone, so there must be something.

They go out after the game, a smaller group than usual, because they’re on game two of a five game road trip and people are pacing themselves, it seems like. Not that they’re spending much time on the road, since the first two games were the Rangers and the Devils, the next two a hop up to do Hartford and Boston before they play a home and home against the Islanders, which David isn’t much looking forward to. It isn’t like the Islanders, where everyone leaps on a win as a chance to go out, though, David supposes. The guys staying in know that the next win’s probably right around the corner.

Oleg and Robbie are going out, along with Dineen, who did score his first goal as a Capital, so David thinks he should go for at least a drink, especially since the trip to Hartford tomorrow isn’t going to be particularly grueling.

Usually Robbie stays out past the first drink or two, and sometimes David has too, just slows the pace he’s drinking at so he doesn’t overindulge, but tonight Robbie spends the entire time glaring over at Dineen, who’s over by the bar, declares he’s tired after his first beer, and David figures he might as well go back with him, especially because the guys are teasing Robbie and not him for the early night, maybe because it’s more uncharacteristic. 

“Did Dineen do something?” David asks when they’re walking back to the hotel.

“Oh good, even the robot notices,” Robbie snaps. 

“Excuse me?” David says.

“Can I go a fucking minute without getting that question?” Robbie asks. “Like, fuck, how much is that to ask? How many ‘don’t fucking ask’ vibes does it take?”

“I’m…sorry?” David says, but Robbie’s already walking away, ahead of him, and it doesn’t seem like a good idea to catch up with him.

David wonders if that — if those ‘don’t fucking ask vibes’ were something he should have gotten. He’s sure Jake or Kiro would have, would have known better, and it’s — every time he does something right he seems to fuck something else up and now Robbie probably won’t even want to talk to him for some reason David can’t figure out.

He could wait and follow once he’s sure he won’t catch up with Robbie, but he’s only half a block from the bar right now, and it seems easier to just turn around, go back. There appears to be a pretty animated discussion going on at the table David and Robbie had been sitting at, Quincy’s face serious and hands moving, while Oleg, looking just as serious, nods at him, and David doesn’t want to interrupt, so he heads to the bar. 

There’s some space on one side of Dineen, and David takes it, nods at Dineen when he looks away from the conversation he’s having with the typically pretty girl hockey players seem to find in every city, orders himself a beer. After a moment he asks for another of what Dineen’s drinking, because he did have his first goal with the Capitals tonight, and David doesn’t know if someone’s bought him a drink — Quincy probably did, but just in case he didn’t, it’s important that the milestone’s acknowledged.

The bartender points at David when the drink arrives, presumably in response to a question from Dineen, and Dineen looks over at him.

“Good work,” David says. “On your goal. Congratulations.”

“Hey, thanks Chaps,” Dineen says. “Okay if I call you Chaps? I know I’m new.”

“I’m kind of new too, so,” David says. “That’s fine.”

“Okay,” Dineen says, then smiles at David, lopsided. “Thanks, Chaps.”

“You’re welcome, Dineen,” David says, and is horrified to realise he’s gone red.

“Okay, if you’re Chaps, I’m definitely Georgie,” Georgie says, then, still grinning, holds his hand out. “Nice to meet you, Chaps.”

“Uh, nice to meet you, Georgie?” David says, takes his outstretched hand, feels a sense of deja vu, overwhelming, until he forcibly pushes it down.

Georgie’s got a dimple on his right cheek that appears when he smiles. David doesn’t know why he notices. 

“It’s weird being the new kid,” Georgie says. “I feel like there are all these cliques I don’t know about and there are rules for getting in or something.”

“I know what you mean,” David says. He can’t see it being a problem for Georgie, though, who already seems to be liked well enough by the team, less than a week into his time on the roster. “But they’re nice guys.”

“Yeah,” Georgie says. “You’ve all been pretty great to me so far.”

David isn’t sure he deserves to be included in that, but then, he bought him a drink, which is, he supposes, welcoming. The girl on Georgie’s other side lets out a huff of breath, loud and exasperated, and walks off with her drink when Georgie doesn’t notice.

“Your — uh. You lost the girl you were talking to,” David says.

“That’s okay,” Georgie says, shrugging a shoulder. “You mind if I ask you a few questions about the team?”

“Sure,” David says. “Though Quincy’s probably a better person to ask.”

“Yeah, but Quincy’s been here forever,” Georgie says. “You’re new, but you’re not as new as me, so you probably get the dynamics but haven’t necessarily normalised them, you know?”

“Sure,” David repeats. “Um. Ask away?”

He probably doesn’t have the best answers, in fact he knows he doesn’t, unless Georgie’s asking about strategy and play style, which David is more comfortable with but is positive Quincy would be better suited to answer. Maybe Georgie noticed the conversation that Quincy and Oleg and Salonen were having too, didn’t want to interrupt the captain and his As, and David can understand that. 

Georgie has a lot of questions, smart ones David wouldn’t have thought to ask when he came to a new team, like what the team fouls are so he can avoid doing anything that leads to Quincy coming over with his hand outstretched for money, which happened to David when he wore a blue tie to a game, because apparently only the coaching staff is allowed to wear blue ties. That’s the only time David’s personally owed money, though he saw Crane handing Quincy a fifty last week, and apparently that was because he bought drinks for more than one girl in a night.

“You have saved me from embarrassment and at least fifty bucks, I’m buying,” Georgie says when the bill comes, hand landing on top of David’s when he reaches for it.

“You can’t,” David says. “It was a drink for your goal.”

“Then let me buy you a drink next time,” Georgie says, hand still heavy over David’s.

“Okay,” David says, swallowing. “Sure.” 

Quincy’s chatting with Salonen, more casual now. Oleg’s nowhere to be found, but he probably went back, considering it’s getting late. David follows Georgie out, and Georgie holds the door for him, which feels — maybe it shouldn’t feel weird, it’s something he grew up with, but it’s odd, the things you grow unaccustomed to, how quickly they become foreign.

“Nice night,” Georgie says. It is a nice night, hovering around the freezing mark, the air crisp but not frigid. 

“It is,” David says, then, “Is—”. Stops himself.

“Is what?” Georgie asks, and then when David doesn’t say anything, “Seriously, shoot.”

“This is probably none of my business—” David starts. He shouldn’t ask, considering how angry Robbie got, and he _knows_ it’s none of his business, but if this is something like — David really hopes Georgie isn’t someone like Benson, someone who picks on someone else, takes pleasure in hurting them, and if Georgie was like that to Robbie —

Georgie seems really nice, though. 

“Ask away,” he says. “I spent like an hour asking you question after question, it’s the least I can do.”

“Lombardi seems to—” David says, realises that it’s not a good way to say it before he finishes. “Is there something going on with you and Lombardi?”

Georgie stops smiling for what feels like the first time that night. “Robbie’s not subtle, huh?” he asks. “Never really has been.”

“Um,” David says.

“I know I said it was the least I could do, but Robbie really wouldn’t want me talking to you about this, so,” Georgie says. 

“Sure, of course,” David says, feeling mortified. “Sorry for asking?”

“Nah, nothing to be sorry about,” Georgie says, throws an arm, heavy, over David’s shoulder, squeezing once, before he pulls away. “Sorry for the shit answer.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” David repeats, keeps his head ducked low when they enter the hotel lobby, hoping Georgie can’t how red he must be, face feeling hot. When he looks, tentative, in the mirrored elevator, it’s not as obvious as he feared, but his cheeks are flushed pink.

“Sleep well, Chaps,” Georgie says, when they separate on the 6th floor.

“Yeah, you too,” David says. “Georgie.”

Georgie shoots him a lazy wave, and when David gets into his room he heads straight to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face until the pink is more uniform, simply a physiological reaction to the cold.

*

David wakes up feeling stupid the next morning. Stupid for asking Robbie, stupid for asking Georgie even after Robbie’s reaction, stupid and rude, like he had never been taught better than not to pry into other people’s business. 

David’s expecting Robbie to ignore him, and he feels kind of sick about it. He’s never liked it when someone’s mad at him, is never sure what he’s supposed to do other than apologise, which sometimes makes things worse, and he likes it even less when he doesn’t know what he did. He keeps his head down at breakfast, answers a few questions Oleg asks, but only as much as he needs to, and Oleg stops including him in the conversation after that. Maybe those are ‘don’t fucking ask vibes’. Apparently Oleg can read them too. Maybe only David can’t.

David packed before breakfast, so he’s the first guy down waiting for the charter to the train station, though Robbie shows up a minute after him. David looks over, looks down, hopes someone else comes down quickly so it doesn’t look so much like they’re ignoring one another.

“David,” Robbie says, from less than a foot away. David didn’t even notice him come over.

“Um,” David says. “Hi. I’m—”

“I’m really sorry,” Robbie says.

“Pardon me?” David says.

“I was a giant dick, I’m sorry, if you are a robot they did a great job,” Robbie says. “So. Sorry.”

“I’m not a robot,” David says.

“That’s exactly what a robot would say, though,” Robbie says. “Shit, I’m fucking up the apology. Next dinner’s on me? And you can pick the movies we watch when we fly out to Cali in January? If you want to, I mean. You can sit with Kurmazov or whatever, my feelings will only be a little hurt. Maybe medium hurt, but I’m tough, so.”

“You don’t have to do that,” David says. 

“I really do,” Robbie says. “Penance and shit. Am I forgiven?”

“Sure,” David says. He still doesn’t really know what set Robbie off, or why, less than twelve hours later, he’s not only back to normal but _apologising_ , but it doesn’t seem like a very good idea to ask. And it’s still none of his business.

“Awesome,” Robbie says, bouncing a little on his heels. “But if you’re a robot you can tell me, I can keep a secret. Even if Hockey Canada’s started making hockey robots, which would totally be cheating, by the way.”

David snorts. “I’m not a robot,” he says.

“Okay,” Robbie says. “I mean, a robot would probably win at COD, so, fair.”

“I beat you not too long ago,” David says.

“Fluke,” Robbie says, waving his hand dismissively. “When we get back to DC you’re coming over for a rematch, and I am kicking your ass. You know. To prove you’re not a robot.”

“Your rules for robots are really arbitrary,” David says.

“That’s just what a robot would say too!” Robbie gasps, putting a hand over his mouth, and starts laughing a second after David does.

“This is the stupidest conversation,” David says.

“Yeah, but I made you laugh, so whatever,” Robbie says, grinning, but it drops off his face, and David doesn’t even have to turn around to know that Georgie’s likely arrived.

“If he did anything—” David says, before he can stop himself, because that look on Robbie’s face seems wrong for him.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” Robbie says. “It’s my shit, I’ve got it handled.”

“If you’re sure,” David says.

“I’m sure,” Robbie says. “But thanks.”

“Any time,” David says. 

Robbie holds out his fist. “This is a fist bump thing?” David asks sceptically.

“You know it. You get a fist bump for being a bro, non-optional,” Robbie says, and David obediently knocks his fist against Robbie’s.

“I’ve got Chaps dibs on the train,” Robbie says over David’s shoulder. “We have Breaking Bad to watch.”

“You are welcome to him,” Oleg says.

“Don’t I get a choice in this?” David asks, scowling at the ‘no’, he receives from both of them, but on the train he sits beside Robbie, lets him cue up the third episode. He didn’t really like the first two episodes, but Robbie insists it’s awesome, so David supposes it’s worth giving it a try.


End file.
